


The Deal

by FatalSmiles



Category: Loki (Avengers Movies) - Fandom, Loki (Thor Movies) - Fandom, Loki - Fandom, Loki(Marvel), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blowjobs, Car Sex, Loki fucks you (eventually), Other, Renaissance Festival, Road Trip, Written in 2nd person, buddy buddies, loki gives you oral, main character is genderless so anyone can enjoy, questionable consent via hypnotism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 08:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15385227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalSmiles/pseuds/FatalSmiles
Summary: Ever wonder why in the first "Thor" movie Loki visits Thor on Earth wearing regular Midgardian clothing when no one else from Asguard does? Ever wonder why he’s not particularly perturbed by Midgardian customs even though these things seem to be surprising to Thor? It’s probably because he’s been there before. And it’s probably because he learned about all of it from you.





	1. The Tall, Dark Cosplayer

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey! So this fic is unfinished and I can't guarantee regular updates. I write things as I feel like writing about them. 
> 
> I wrote this fic shortly after watching Avengers: Infinity War. Thor's conversation with Rocket really struck a chord with me, and caused me to go back and rewatch all the Thor movies. Thor is now my favorite Marvel superhero! 
> 
> Rewatching all the Thor films got me super interested in Loki as well. He was a character I had previously overlooked. Turns out there are a lot of nuances to him! I have a very firm idea of how Loki's brain works and I needed to write it out. 
> 
> Sadly, I do not know if I will ever finish this. But I just can't let it sit in my computer by itself. If anyone likes this story, please tell me! And I'm always happy to hear criticism. 
> 
> This story takes place BEFORE the events of Thor(2011). Loki is younger (about 20-25 relative to human age). The character “You” is written gender neutral, including the sexy bits, so anyone of any gender can enjoy. You have a tattoo. It’s for plot I swear!
> 
> WARNING: This story contains use of cell phones and other modern amenities. I was too lazy to account for the fact that when Loki was younger earth was probably in the 1700’s or some shit. This isn’t historical fiction, it’s porn. Sorry if that bugs you.

* * *

 

“Ticket please” The lady in the stall held out her hand. She was dressed in a white shirt and brown skirts sporting a lot of shoulder. Around her thick waist was a well-worn green corset. Atop her head were two braids woven into buns. 

“Right here!” You smiled at her, brandishing your passport to paradise. “Nice hair.”

She took your ticket with a giggle. “Thank’ee kindly” She curtseyed. “It takes quite a bit of work to wrestle it the way I like.”

“Well the work pays off,” You nod and wave goodbye. She does in kind. You took a deep breath, smelling the air. It had rained last night, so there was an earthy scent. But on top of that was a cacophony of complex flavors ranging from roast turkey to fresh manure. It was homey and exciting.

The stall the woman had been standing in was made of very old, thick wood freshly painted. Connected to it was an archway that looked exactly like a castle in miniature. There were two pointed towers on either side of the archway, and in the center was a sign that read

RENAISSANCE FESTIVAL

Finally, you were here! This weekend was going to be great!

About once a year in July you would buy tickets for the Colorado renaissance festival. You’d book a hotel for the weekend and just go and blow off steam by bantering with complete strangers, devouring bucket loads of fried foods and baked goods, and hooting at jousters. It was complete fun.

Throngs of people poured in on either side of you. The festival was always in full swing on Fridays and Saturdays. Even as early at 10:00am. The sun was beginning to creep its way up the clear blue Colorado sky. It was sparse of clouds even after the heavy rains. The weather app on your phone told you it was going to be an absolute scorcher of a day.

Instead of the period clothing you had hoped to wear that day, you instead decided to sport shorts and a t-shirt, tacking on a bit of sunscreen where needed. The noonday sun at 6,000 feet above sea level could scorch any shade of skin. You were not a risk taker.

You started with the shops just past the main gate. It was always good to look at the wares vendors were offering first. Then, while you explored the rest of the festival you could ruminate about what would be the best souvenirs to buy. Finally, on your way out you could snatch them up!

As you were looking at a beautiful pair of leather boots, a town crier waltzed his way past with news. As his name would suggest, he was blowing out the eardrums of everyone within a 10 foot radius.

“Hear yea, hear yea! For your viewing pleasure, the Kamikaze Fireflies will be giving a spectacular show of epic acrobatics at the Fortune Stage! Nearing on 20 minutes we shall see their feats of bravery on Fortune Stage! Hear yea, Hear yea!”

Oh! You _loved_ the fireflies! You would have to hurry up to catch them.

You took out your phone and sent a picture of the throngs of people around you to one of your close friends.

_-Lots of ppl here today. Wish you were here. ;(_

You really meant it. As fun as the festival was it had been really frustrating to find out that none of your friends were able to go with you. Work, school, family. These were all things they had to tend to with no rescheduling in sight. One of them even recently had their first child! Real life suddenly felt maddeningly terrifying.

And what better way to get escapism than to go to a place where everyone went for escapism? Sure, it was lonely without friends. But maybe you’d make new ones.

“How much does this cost?” You asked the lady at the counter. She took the leather bound journal from you. It had a tree of life on the front with roots and branches woven into Norse knots. Small animals here and there were tangled into the mix, hanging on for dear life. You loved Norse knots. You hadn’t dabbled much in Norse mythology since high school, but the symbols themselves meant something to you that was a bit beyond what they meant in myths and legends.

The woman at the counter tucked her greying hair behind her ear and slid on a pair of reading glasses. She flipped it over in her hands and inspected the inside cover with a frown.

“So sorry my dear!” She shook her head. “Sometimes when stocking we forget to mark all of our merchandise with tags. Let me check my books.” She bustled away, bright skirts billowing around her legs.

Just as you were about to follow her to her desk something caught your eye.

It was a man. A tall man with dark hair. And he was dressed extremely poorly for the weather.  

A green cape was strewn over his shoulders, attached to him by a very intricately crafted metal chest piece. On his arms were gauntlets of the same caliber. And beneath this was a long-sleeved shirt, tight breeches, and knee-high boots.

The armor was beautiful. There was no doubt about that. You were sure it must have cost him thousands of dollars for that custom fitted gear. But even the festival employees dressed only in thin linens were sweating in this heat. You can’t imagine what this guy must have been going through.

Actually, you could read it all over his face. He was walking with a slight and groggy sway. His hair was curling at the ends from the sweat dripping down his face. And on top of it all he was very pale. You knew this look well: heat-stroke.

Yet despite the fact that his eyes looked dead in their sockets, he seemed to be fighting it. His head reeled about, looking at the faces of every passer-by, looking at the signs of every shop. He also seemed to have a fixation with touching things. He touched the wooden picnic tables, sliding his fingers up the grain of the wood. He touched the clothing and belongings of people who passed him by. He was gentle enough that they wouldn’t feel it, but you saw it. And just as you were watching him get a good pinch off of some kid’s cotton candy, the woman from the shop returned to you.

“Seventy-five,” she said, handing the book back to you. You jumped.

“Oh, okay. Cash only, or do you take card?” You asked, walking with her to the desk.

As she helps you with your purchase your eyes wander out to the man. He’s moved farther up the road, growing smaller by the minute. Like you, he also seemed to be alone, and a bit of idiot at that. A very dangerous combination. If you knew one thing about devoted cosplayers, it’s that they would endure immense suffering just to keep that costume on. You’ve had your own hay days in some pretty uncomfortable attire. He should have had a friend of some kind carrying water and watching him, but there was no one in sight who fit that description.

You weren’t exactly sure what your reasoning was for this. Maybe it was because he was alone, or because he was clearly sick, or because he was just really attractive. Whatever it was, as soon as you finished paying you marched towards him on a mission.

As you walked up to face him, you tried to think of the best way to break the ice.

“Hi, how are you. Are you aware that you are in extreme danger?” seemed to be the most frank way of putting it.

But the moment he realized you were walking up to him, you forgot how to talk. 

You waved at him and smiled, trying to seem casual. He had stopped his slow swagger and was waiting for you to catch up.

“Hello,” you managed, trying your best to be friendly.

“Hello.” He said. He looked down at you wearily. His eyes raked you up and down. It felt very… invasive.

“Hello!” You parroted again. He pursed his lips. You let out a nervous laugh and wrung your hands. This was not going well. 

“Uhm… can I get a picture with you?” You brandished your phone at him. “Your armor is really cool and well made.”

“Oh!” He gave you a nervous smile and looked at the ground. “Of course, but…” His eyebrows narrowed. He pointed at your phone. “What’s that for?”

Bless him. He was still refusing to break character even though there was an evident tremor to his hand. What a guy. Two could play at this game, though.

“It’s called a phone,” You smiled and unlocked it for him. His eyes got a bit wider. “You use it to talk to people who are far away from you. And it also has a camera on it. You take pictures with it and send them to friends.”

Before you can say any more, his hand is wrapped around it and he’s taken it from you.

“How does it work?” He starts poking it with his finger. “I thought Midgardian technology was supposed to be primitive but this… we don’t have anything like this at home.”

He manages to open a game on it. When the theme song blares from your speakers he gives a start and drops it. You sigh and bend over to pick it up.

“Please don’t take my things from me.” You say. He doesn’t apologize.

“I was just trying to figure out how it worked.”

You’re starting to think this whole thing was a bad idea. Nevertheless, you hold your phone out so he can see the screen clearly and then tap the icon for the camera. An image of the two of you pops up. You see his lips part in the frame. The look of fascination on his face is priceless. He was really selling his performance.

“See?” You wave at the camera. “It takes pictures. Here, make a funny face.”

You count to three and cross your eyes and stick out your tongue. It seems like the guy isn’t too confident in his ability to make a funny face, because he just imitates you… sort of… his attempt at crossing his eyes just makes it look like he’s glancing at something very far off to the side of the camera. You laugh. But he seems rather disappointed in himself.

“Can we take another?” He asks. You oblige him. And then you oblige him again, and again, until you’ve taken about twenty photos, each with him making a different crude expression.

“Okay, I think that’s enough pictures.” You put your phone back in your pocket. He makes a face, but doesn’t push it. When you look at him again you realize you’ve almost forgotten about his discomfort. He was even paler now, and he’d stopped sweating. This was bad. But he still seemed to be adamantly fighting against it. You bit your lip.

He was probably going to pass out if you didn’t say anything.

“It’s a really hot day out.” You comment, trying to sound nonchalant. “You look a bit pale. Have you been drinking any water?”

He crossed his arms. That invasive gaze of his was back. It felt like he was sizing you up for a fight. Worried that he might reject your help, you pull your backpack from your shoulders and unzip it. He leans in to see, curious.

“Here, this is called Gatorade” You pull a fat bottle of brightly colored liquid from your bag. “It’s like a… like a potion. You drink it in little sips and it helps your body absorb water faster.” You pull a second bottle from the bag. “This one is just plain water. Drink these two together and it keeps the heat from killing you.”

You can tell he is interested. His personality seems a bit tricky. It looks like he responds best to being given options rather than being told exactly what to do. Gingerly, he takes the bottle of Gatorade from you.

“How do I open this?” He asks. You’re instantly relieved. He’s not going to refuse your help.

“Would you like to find a place to sit down?” You offer. “I can explain.” He doesn’t break his eye-contact with the bottle in his hands. He considers it like some philosopher might consider a deep thought. He nods.

“That does sound very nice, actually.” He manages a smile, and you give him one in kind.

 

* * *

 

The two of you find a picnic table near the King’s Pantry, a vendor that prides itself on hearty meats and fried foods.  Nearby is the Globe Stage. Two fencing artists were whooping and hollering on it. Loud cheers regaled their antics.

Your armoured man watches them. He doesn’t look particularly amused, but he doesn’t look bored either. He was alternating sips of Gatorade with sips of water. You watched him from the line to the concessions as he straddled the picnic table bench.

He was… surreal to say the least. You’d met people like him before but never with this much intensity. You wondered what kind of person he was like out of character. He was around the same age as you, maybe older. Maybe he liked the same sort of things as you. The two of you clearly had similar hobbies if he was out here in the bleak Colorado sun decked to the nines in leather and steal.  

You order yourself some skewered steak and onion rings but you falter when you think about what he might want. Once, when you had heat stroke, you couldn’t eat solid foods without regurgitating it. It was just too hard on your body to process. You settle on fried ice cream.

You turn around with your food in tow and _oh no._ Your heart sinks. A large man in a tricorn hat seems to be speaking sternly to mister tall, dark, and handsome. He’s pointing clearly at the bottle of Gatorade and is starting to turn a bit pink in the face. You rush over.

“Excuse me,” You approach the table and set your haul down. “I’m sorry, what’s the issue here?”

“This man is being an unreasonable twat.” your man says. And he grins when the man in the tricorn hat only gets redder in the face. You look around you, people are starting to stare.

“I’ve asked your friend to leave,” The man in the hat says. “You’re not allowed foreign food and drink in our kingdom.”

You grab ahold of your "friend’s" upper arm. You give it a firm squeeze and glare at him. He sneers up at you.

“Can you stand up okay?” You ask him.

“Of course I can.”

“Good then we’re going.” You help hoist him to his feet and look at the man with the tricorn hat. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize. “He has heat stroke, I was just trying to help him.”

“That’s not my problem,” The guy shakes his head furiously. “You could have gone to the hospital station. Take the drink outside. You can’t come back with it.”

Your friend clicks his tongue. “Positively stupid.” He growls at the other guy. “As though you don’t sneak extra in.” His eyes travel to the man’s belly, which hangs over his breeches.

“Are you trying to say something, buddy?” The man has started to advance on the two of you. A small circle of people has begun to gather.

“Hokay!” You shout. “I think that’s enough.” You look at your friend pointedly. “You’re drunk” You lie, saying it loudly enough that the people circling you hear it. “Let’s get you out of here. Take your ice cream please.”

You push mister metal and leather away from the crowd of people, apologizing over your shoulder to the festival worker. Your departure from the situation probably would have gone a lot smoother if the two people you were trying to separate weren’t slinging insults at each other.

The big man in the tricorn hat can’t seem to contain himself very well. He starts to follow the two of you. Sensing a fight, you pick up the pace.

His insults stop before you reach the door. And once he quiets you hear gasps from about 20 or so people. One woman even screams. Your friend laughs and you glance over your shoulder, confused. Everyone seems to be staring wide-eyed at a toad on the ground.

Your friend his shaking with laughter. You shove him forward by the arm and press on through the gates.

 You were absolutely mortified.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe that.” You shook your head. He was walking next to you out into the parking lot, casually eating his ice cream and still giggling between his teeth.

“This is very delicious.” He complimented.

“What the fuck was that?” You asked him, exasperated. He looked thoughtfully at his ice cream.

“Ice cream, I think? With a sweet and bready coating. We have ice cream in Asgard. Not this doughy part though.”

“Asgard? Asgard!?” You wave your hands at him. Was he purposefully trying to be a dick to you? “I don’t care if you have ice cream in whatever time in history you’re from. You just got us kicked out of the Renaissance Festival!”

The two of you had stopped walking. He had his plastic spoon resting between his lips. It was clear that he was trying to hide a smirk.

“You call that a festival?” He asked. But when he saw the murder in your eyes he changed the subject. “Can’t we go back in? I thought we were just supposed to get rid of that drink.” He gestured to the Gatorade with his spoon.

“I probably could,” you said, pressing a hand to your chest. “But I don’t think I want to after the scene you caused. And I don’t think you should because you’re dressed top to bottom in the most unreasonable clothing I have ever seen.” This time it was his turn to get offended.

“How is my attire ‘unreasonable’?” He asked, standing up straight and holding out his arms in a flourish. “This is common noble attire in Asgard.”

“Asgard…” You chew on your lower lip. “Like the home of the gods in Norse legends?” You find yourself eyeing his clothes once again. “Did you… go to a renaissance festival dressed as a Norse god?” You don’t think you’d ever encountered anyone who had done this before. It was… startlingly original. You were slightly impressed. He was really committed.

“I’ve no clue what this ‘Norse’ is you speak of. But I am a god.” He bows to you. “I am Loki Odinson.”

You blink. The heat must be getting to his head. The two of you were in the parking lot for god’s sake. There was no reason for him to keep up the charade.

“Riiight…” you press a hand to your face and sigh. “Well, you should probably go home, or to the hospital. Do you have a phone with you? Is there maybe a friend you might have brought with you who can drive you home?”

Loki shuffles his feet, he’s finished his ice cream so he no longer has something to do with his hands.

“I thought my brother might come with me today. But he was too busy with his friends.” He let his lips curl around that last word like it was a slur. You felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Though you didn’t really like the tone of voice Loki used when talking about his brother, you kind of felt like you were in the same boat as him.

“Okay,” You follow his lead and take a bite of your meat skewer. “Where did you park? I can at least walk you to your car.”

He looks at you sheepishly. After a bit of thinking he says slowly,

“I don’t have it with me.”

Great. He’s not only alone, but he’s stranded.

“Did a friend drop you off?” You ask. He offers a smile and rubs his neck nervously with his hand. He looks pale all of a sudden. 

“You could say that.”

“And do you have a way of contacting them?”

“Yes! Err… sort of.” He presses a hand to his forehead. He looks incredibly uncomfortable. “All of my associates are busy people you know. Difficult to contact at times.” He’s got both hands pressed to his stomach now. He’s curling into himself. “Excuse me,” he coughs. “I don’t feel very-“

He doesn’t get the last word out. Instead he deposits the contents of his stomach onto the grass.


	2. Show Me the Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I like to think Loki is more sensitive to heat because of his Jotun blood.

* * *

 

Loki, for lack of any real name he has, is curled up in the back seat of your car. You have the air conditioning on full blast, and he’s back to sipping slowly at his two drinks. Your cleaned meat skewer and paper tray of onion ring crumbs rests on your dashboard. The radio is on and quieted to a very low volume. You hum to the occasional song for the better part of forty-five minutes. While he recuperates, you open up your new journal and idly write in it.

_Met a man who is very committed to his character today. Not sure if he’s nuts._

You accompany this thought with some other thoughts, along with lazily drawn doodles and squiggly lines. Not the most impressive first page. But then again today hadn’t been all that impressive.

“Damnit, I wish I could return home.” Loki grumbles. You turn from your spot in the driver’s seat to look at him. He’s wedged in a very uncomfortable looking position. He looks terrible. The hair that isn’t stuck to his face is tangled at the top of his head. He’s shed his chest plate, gauntlets, and boots in an attempt to cool himself. His long, pale feet have left sweaty imprints on your back window. And on top of it all, he reeked. It was an extremely unpleasant aroma of body odor, dried sweat, and vomit. And you let him in your car!

You close your eyes and take a very deep breath, then release it. You got yourself into this mess. When you open your eyes he’s looking fully into your face. He studies you with narrowed eyebrows. You watch as his eyes drift over your features. It’s at that point you notice that his eyes are not in fact the dark color you though they were, but a light and steely grey-blue. You watch them move over you, until they come to rest on your own eyes.

“Is it common for Midgardians to come to the aid of their gods?” He asks. _Good grief_. You laugh.

“No…” You shake your head. “It’s not very common for a ‘Midgardian’ to see a god, let alone see one that needs help. But I know you’re not a god. It’s okay. You can drop the charade.” You smile, shaking your head. “We haven’t been inside the festival for a good hour. You don’t have to act like your character around me.”

“Character!?” Loki looks absolutely affronted. “I am not a character of any sort. I’m Loki. Didn’t you just tell me earlier that I am a god of some Norse legend? How do you know me but then claim that my demeanor is all a façade?” You had no idea what to say to that. There was a mixture of emotions swirling around inside of you. There was frustration that he wouldn’t open up to you. Fear that he might truly be a little crazy. And general concern for your own safety. He was bare-footed and smelly inside your car.

You had a sudden and very real fear that he might, in fact, be some kind of homeless person. Maybe a drugged out escapee from an asylum or something. And all too quickly your mind was reeling. Suddenly you were very scared.

He seemed to notice the way you were clenching tightly at the back of your car seat. Because he smiled. Sirens were going off in your head. You had to get him out of your car. Or… no… you had a better idea.

You quickly opened your car door and stepped out, locking the doors behind you. He watches you do this and jumps to attention, immediately trying to open the door himself. He can’t do it. He doesn’t know how the car locks work. He starts to bang franticly on the window.

“Let me out!” He cries. “Set me free of this absurd prison!”

“No!” You yell loudly to him through the window. It startles him. “Tell me your real name. Not your character’s name. Prove to me you’re not crazy, and I’ll drive you home.”

Furious, Loki smacks his fist against your window. It cracks. Shocked you take a step back.

“I’ve no clue what you’re talking about, you daft ingrate! I. Am. Loki. The god of mischief. And as far as crazy goes, I like to think I’m only just.” The crack on the window is becoming bigger. Your heart was beating out of your chest. If he broke out of your car there was a chance he might attack you.

You had half a mind to call the police. But… the image of the toad on the ground flashes in your mind.

“Prove it.”

Loki stopped pounding on the glass. He blinked.

“What?”

“Loki, right?” You could hear your own heavy breathing. You were holding your hand up in a defensive position in case he decided to start again. “Loki can make magic happen. Real magic.” You point at him. “Prove it. Do some magic for me.”

The grin that spread across his face was absolutely terrifying. For a fleeting moment you felt like your heart had stopped.

“And what shall you have me do?” He asked. You were dumbfounded. This wasn’t the type of response you had expected from him.

You swallow, trying to wet your dry mouth.

“You-you’d be able to get out of that car without breaking my windows… or unlocking the doors.”

Loki sat back and crossed his arms.

“Fine,” he said. You watched in shocked horror as he stood, the roof of the car melting over his head and shoulders. He flew forward as if on puppet strings. He burned his way out of the car, arms open wide. It was eerie. Like watching a character in a video game glitch through a wall. Once out, Loki touched down on the grass with the smuggest look on a person you had ever seen in your life.

You hesitated. You were supposed to be feeling something but you weren’t sure what it was. A man claiming to be a Norse god had glitched himself out of your car. It was terrifying and yet… you found yourself feeling a bit awed. Someone had just conjured magic, real magic, before your very eyes after you’d spent your entire life wishing bleakly that such fantastic things could exist. It was a somewhat cathartic experience. You found yourself wondering if unicorns were also a real possibility now.

Loki’s smile had faltered slightly. You were looking at him like a deer caught in headlights. He flourished his arms again and coughed.

“Eh-hem, is this not suitable enough proof for you?” He looked down his nose at you.

You bit your lip. There was still a part of you that couldn’t seem to comprehend this. You stepped forward and reached your hand out. Loki pursed his lips and stepped back.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Checking to make sure it’s real.” You brandished a finger and jabbed it at his stomach.

It went right through him.

You look up at him with your hand halfway through his torso. It’s a very awkward exchange. After a moment or so he sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Okay, so maybe I didn’t actually free myself.” He concedes. And at once he vanishes in a flash of green. He waves at you from the window of the car. “But it was real magic!” He shouts through the glass. “An illusion.”

“And the man?” You ask.

“What man?”

“The man you turned into a toad. Was that an illusion?”

Loki stopped for a second. Then laughed.

“No, I did actually turn him into a toad.” He smiled. “But I imagine he’s turned back by now. I take joy in chaos but not in killing. Though if anyone had stepped on him that would have been out of my hands.” His grin makes him look absolutely devilish. You pinch between your eyebrows with your thumb and forefinger.

“Is he dead or not, you jerk?” You reach out and put your hand on the door handle, letting him know that his freedom depends on his answer… well… more like his good graces with you, anyway. You suppose he could still break the glass if he wanted.

He seems to take the hint.

“He’s alive,” Loki rolls his eyes. “You can go back in and check if you like. No one has stepped on him.”

You mull it over, then unlock the car door with a button on your keys. As you open it his feet spill out. He scoots up to the door and sits up, his feet resting in the grass.

“Glad you’re not too cross with me,” he smiles. “What now?”

You press your lips together and cross your arms. You wanted to tell him to leave. If he was as much of a god as he claimed to be it seemed to you like he could get on well on his own. But then you looked at his tangled hair and his sweat-soaked shirt. You found yourself wondering about something.

“Why did you ask me if Midgardians would come to the aid of their gods?” You asked. “Did you expect to be worshipped or something when you got here?”

Loki scratched his head. “To be blatantly honest, I had no idea what I was in for. I came here to see what it was like. Though I had been hoping there would have been some sort of welcoming committee.” He smiled.

“Ah.” You scratch your chin. “Well you’ll be disappointed to know that only certain people probably know about you. And out of those people an even smaller number probably worship you.” You look over your shoulder at the festival you’d been forced to leave behind. “Though some of those people probably do frequent renaissance fairs, so it was a good start I guess.”

Loki looked confused.

“You keep calling that place a ‘fair’ or a ‘festival’ or what have you.” He gestures to the gates. “Is that not how all Midgardians live?” You laugh and shake your head.

“No. Maybe hundreds of years ago in England. But no one around here lives like that.” You were starting to accept the idea that Loki really was who he says he was.

“Oh.” He seems incredibly put off by this. You feel like the conversation is going south. You get to the point.

“Look,” you rub the back of your head. “Why exactly are you stuck down here? I think I’ll believe you this time.”

Loki clasped his hands together and twiddled his thumbs. He had that sheepish look on his face again.

“I came down here of my own accord. There are places in Asgard that let us travel between realms. Places not even my Father is privy to! .”

“And?” You ask expectantly. Loki fidgets a bit.

“Well I’m not exactly supposed to be down here. It’s forbidden. We’re to leave Midgard alone.”

“So you snuck down here by yourself. I thought you had someone who dropped you off.”

“I did! But…” He’s a little too good at maintaining eye contact. “I can’t go back now in the middle of the day. I’ll get caught.”

You eye him suspiciously. Your high school Mythology class taught you that Loki was supposed to be a pathological liar and a shapeshifter, among a collective of other weird things.

You don’t trust his words, per se. Of course he wouldn’t get caught going back. He could probably make himself invisible. But his intentions don’t seem hell-bent on world domination. It just seemed like he wanted to wear out his welcome for as long as possible.

You sigh. You’re about to make a decision that you’re not sure if you’ll regret. 

“Loki, I’m not and idiot, you liar.” You wave your hand at him dismissively. He raises his eyebrows. He must not get told this very often. You continue. “If you want to stay on earth longer, I can take you somewhere to recuperate and get something to eat.”

He licks his cracked lips. It’s obvious that this is the exact thing he’d been craving.

“So you’d show me more of this place?” He asked. You could see the hunger in his eyes.

“I mean,” you falter. “Can you pay for yourself at least?”

“Oh I assure you, currency is no object.” His fingers are curled around the edge of his seat. You shrug _. Fuck it._

“Alright, get yourself situated and close the door.” You hop in the front seat of your car and slap your keys into the ignition. As you start to drive Loki grabs the front seats on either side of him and lunges forward, twisting himself into the passenger side.

As you drive away you roll down the windows, trying to free your car of his stench. The cool wind in Loki’s face seems to be therapeutic. He’s perked up considerably.

“Can you go faster?” He asks.

“I’m going the speed limit. Can you please put your seat belt on?”


	3. The Deal

You drive him twenty minutes up the road to Castle Rock where your hotel is. He seems disappointed that the drive was so short. You don’t give him much sympathy. He made you miss out on a good six hours of festival, so tit for tat.

“Are there other, farther away places we can travel to?” He asks, opening the passenger side door and stepping out. He looks debauched to say the least. The wind whips at his hair as he looks up at the stone walls of the Holiday Inn.

“Maybe,” you offer. “But not with you dressed in full armor. Speaking of which, grab it out of the back seat. We’ll take it up to my room.”

You open the back door for him. As he reaches in to grab his things he asks,

“What is this place, do you live here?”

“No, it’s eh… it’s an Inn basically.” You say. Loki looks up at it again, this time skeptical.

“I’ve never seen an Inn this big. How many people does it bed?”

“Dunno, let’s just get up to my room.” You wave him towards you and unlock the side door with your key card. He has that hungry look in his eye again.

Once upstairs, you set his armor on your bed and show him to the shower.

“Do they have showers in asguard?” You ask, turning the faucet for him. He pushes you aside and adjusts the temperature himself.

“We might not have the same technologies but we’re not savages.” He says curtly. You raise your hands defensively and take a couple steps back.

“Allright, I’ll leave you to it then, towels are above the toilet.” As you step out he eyes you cautiously. It seems he has some dignity left in him because he’s not about to undress with you still in the room. You show him some respect and shut the door.

While you wait for Loki to finish his shower you inspect his armor. It’s absolutely beautiful. Well crafted, smooth, and polished with a light oil to prevent rust from creeping in. You can’t quite identify what metal it’s made from. It was like stainless steel, but… lighter. The word _Mithril_ comes to mind. 

You circle your fingers around the patterns the metal weaves, tapping it beneath your fingernails. The lock on the bathroom clicks and Loki steps out.

His hair is dry and slicked back. He’s put his breeches and shirt back on but they are both void of sweat stains.

“Did you wash your clothes with magic or something?” You asked, intrigued. You set the armor down and walk up to him to try and see if you can still smell them. There’s nothing but the fresh scent of soap wafting from him.

“Yes. I can do some feats of magic that are very real.” He comments. “There are rules and limitations to what I can do, but domestic things like this any Asgardian can learn.”

“Nice!” You smile. “That’s pretty neat. I wish I could do stuff like that. I’d never have to go to the laundromat again.” He gives you a pitying smile. Like one that someone might give to a pet if the animal has done something both endearing and stupid. You decide to never compliment him again.

“Do you think you’ll be okay going outside dressed in all that cotton?” You ask, looking up at him. You realize you’re much closer to him than you had thought. You could see that his cheeks had regained some color to them. His eyes were brighter than they had been all day. And his smell… there was something underneath the hotel soap. It was deep and earthy, with a hint of spice, and it was beyond pleasant.

For a moment he looks like he hasn’t heard what you asked. His hands are hovering at either side of your arms as though he was debating if he should push you away. But he hasn’t done it yet. He just… looks at you curiously.

Then, the moment is gone. He takes a small step back, looks at the ground, and smiles.

“I must admit I’ve never been the best at tolerating heat, even for an Asgardian.” He says. “When I was a child my mother used to worry I was sickly because I was so much smaller than my brother. She seemed to think that constantly forcing food upon me would allow me to overcome these… issues.”

Now that he mentioned it… you looked him up and down. He _was_ a bit thin. Almost gangly. Though his tight shirt left little to the imagination about the sinew of muscle that wrapped up his arms, there was indeed a sickliness to him. You had just thought it was from the heat stroke he had been suffering from. But his pale complexion and gaunt face was obvious at this proximity.

“Did you ever eat what she gave you?” you asked tentatively.

“Ah, sometimes.” He scratched his nose. “I forget to eat from time to time.” He didn’t seem to want to delve further into the subject. You sigh. He was a piece of work. But you literally had hours to kill and no one else to kill them with.

“You said you wanted to travel to more places?” You asked. “How about we go get some food and then get you some cooler clothes?”

His eyes lit up.

* * *

 

Castle rock is a large town. In the summer it is thick with foliage ranging in colors of green to gold. The majority of the houses are new, built within the last thirty years or so. And they are spaced far apart to accommodate yard space. You and your friends called it “the rich kid town.” All the houses one could see at surface level were two stories with fat driveways and big windows. Each yard was well kept, decorated, and many had sprinkler systems. The parks were trim and void of garbage and debris. Even the public schools looked like mansions.

It was the type of town that seemed too blissful to be real. And driving around it had always made you uncomfortable. It was out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded on all sides by hills and mountains.

The town’s namesake, The Castle Rock, was a humongous rock sitting on top of a steep hill. Tourists often liked to scale this rock and take pictures from the top. You had climbed it yourself before. It was high and terrifying. But the view….

You were explaining all this to Loki as you drove him through town. You were on a hunt for some fast food but admittedly you dawdled a little. You drove past The Castle Rock to show it to him.

“Can we climb it?” He asked. You mulled it over.

“I’d rather we didn’t.”

Loki said nothing.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He hadn’t been overly enthused by all the trees and houses. You think he had probably expected something with a lot more grandeur. A castle or something, as the town's name might sugest. You could see him clenching and unclenching his jaw through his cheeks.

You sighed and made a U-turn at the next intersection. Now was probably a good time to get him some food.

As you pull out into the road another car merges and cuts you off. You slam our breaks and lay on the horn.

“People here are idiots sometimes,” you mutter, more to yourself than to Loki. Loki jumps to attention anyway.

“Here, let me help.” He says, waving his hands.

You hear the sound of screeching tires all around you. In front of you there is a huge dragon. Or… maybe not a dragon. It looks like someone took the concept of a dragon and then twisted it into something new and much more terrifying. It screeched, threatening to shatter the windows of your car.

Your foot immediately tries to crash down on your breaks but some unseen force stops you. You try to steer out of the way, swerving left and right through stopped cars. But when there’s nothing between you and the monster, Loki grabs the wheel.

“Loki, what the hell!” You’re screaming at him over the roars of the beast.

“Don’t stop,” he says casually. He’s begun to side-seat steer your car. He learns things fast. “It’s an illusion. No one else can see it but you and the other mortals in their cars.”

As you near the animal it faces you and charges. You cover your face with your hands. And then there’s silence. You open your eyes.

The two of you are driving on the road again. Nothing but clear skies and no monsters in sight. In your rearview mirror you can see a crowd of cars piling up and jamming traffic. Some people even seem to have gotten out of their cars and run.

Loki is snickering in the passenger seat. You aim a blind punch and rail him in the shoulder.

‘Hey,” He stopped laughing, affronted. “I helped you! Now there are no more cars.”

“And you terrified everyone on the road!” You yelled. “What if people had crashed their cars?”

“I don’t see what the problem is.” He rolled his eyes. “If you want something then be clearer about it. I cleared the road of idiots to help and now you’re cross with me. How am I supposed to repay you?”

You were about to aim another punch at him but stopped when he made his last statement. You briefly looked at him before turning your eyes back to the road.

“Repay me?” You asked suspiciously. “For what?”

“For the care you’ve shown me, of course. I’m allowed to repay a debt aren’t I?”

You chewed on your lower lip. Accepting any kind of favors from a god of mischief sounded like a bad time.

“Okay, you wanna know how you can repay me?” You asked. “You can stop summoning illusions of crazy monsters. You can stop turning people into animals. And you can stop doing crazy stuff like making yourself float through my car. Got it?”

It was Loki’s turn to look uncomfortable.

“I suppose I could try,” he trailed off. “But asking me not to do those things is like asking me not to be myself. I don’t feel like it’s a fair trade.” You roll your eyes.

“What do you consider a fair trade?” You ask. Loki’s face has spread into its tell-tale grin.

“Could I spend three days with you instead of one?” He croons. He’s come dangerously close to your ear. Your hands clench tighter around the steering wheel. You feel your heart drop into your stomach. Three days!? He wants three of them now?

“Terms and conditions,” You say. “What are the rules?”

“Three days counting today, and three nights.” Loki purrs. “I leave Monday morning. In the meantime you show me all this miserable realm has to offer.”

“I can’t possibly show you everything in three days,” You said, exasperated. “There’s places in the world I haven’t even been to.”

“I’m not picky,” Loki waves his hand. “I’m just here to learn.”

“And you promise no crazy magic?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “No harassing people or scaring them. No magic of any kind without permission?”

Loki pouts. He doesn’t seem to like this part of the bargain.

“I am a man of my word.” He resigns. “I do promise. No magic without permission.”

You squint at him.

“And what If I refuse this agreement?” You ask.

Without skipping a beat, Loki snaps his fingers. Your car is filled with snakes. You’re up to your shoulders in them. You can feel them wriggling against your legs and arms. You yelp, swerving your car across two lanes. Loki grabs the steering wheel again and steadies you. He lets loose a very dramatic yawn while a python gently coils itself around his neck.

“I mean,” He gazes out the window at Castle Rock. “If you don’t agree to the terms it’s just more fun for me.”

A yellow viper is winding its way around your steering wheel, swaying its head. It hisses at you.

“Shall we shake on it?” Loki asks, brandishing a hand from beneath the pile of reptiles. The viper seems to be very interested in you.

You’re caught between a rock and a hard place. You didn’t want to agree to anything with him. But then you thought of all the havoc he could wreak over the next 8 or so hours. Reluctantly, you unclasp one of your hands from the steering wheel and latch it onto his.

“Deal. Three days.”

Just as the viper strikes, the snakes vanish instantly.


End file.
